


Evaluation

by ddagent



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Best Friends, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Oblivious, Romance, TV Canon/Book backstory, everyone can see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20032075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: The student evaluations for the history department are in: Doctor Lannister and Doctor Tarth need to bang. Now.





	Evaluation

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm currently enjoying some well-deserved time off, and I've decided to spend it writing some light and fluffy AU stories. This story is *very* loosely inspired by the prompt: "the best part of working at the library is the end of the week is reading over peoples’ suggestions from the box, and someone just suggested that we get together???" Also, the academic system is loosely based on UK higher education. 
> 
> Happy reading!

Doctor Jaime Lannister had better things to do with his time than listen to Professor Stark drone on and _on _about the budget for the next academic year. If he was in his office, he could be working through his stack of marking. If he was in the gym, he could be working on the tourney demonstration he and Brienne put on at the end of every term. _Instead, _he was in a basement room in the Humanities building with the rest of Winterfell University's history department, avoiding the weak coffee and cheap biscuits; trying to look like he was paying attention.

A difficult feat when Brienne was wearing blue.

Jaime made a note on the pad in front of him; some nonsense to appear as if he was taking in Catelyn's comments about field trips, teaching assistants, and recommended reading. In reality, Jaime was staring across the table at his fellow colleague, office-mate, and best friend, Doctor Brienne Tarth. Her hair was down; platinum blonde strands curling as they met broad shoulders. Her shirt was all crisp lines and blue buttons; the open collar revealing a hint of clavicle. He couldn't see her long legs or sensible shoes underneath the table. Perhaps he should drop his pen; sneak a peek. Jaime shifted his gaze upwards. Brienne was watching _him. _

By his elbow, his phone vibrated. A text from Doctor Tarth herself.

_Pay attention. _

_ Do I have something on my face? _

Jaime smirked. _Only the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen, and a pair of full lips I can't stop wanting to kiss. _Whilst most men in Westeros would consider Brienne plain, or even _ugly, _Jaime _vehemently _disagreed. She wasn't soft, or small, or delicate. Brienne was taller than him, and stronger, and could challenge him equally in both the classroom and the sparring ring. Her laugh lit up her eyes, and when she was passionate about a topic she could talk for hours. Jaime had found her infuriating as an undergraduate. A nuisance during her Masters. A worthy opponent during her PhD, and before the defence of her thesis, they had become friends.

Now she was his colleague, and Jaime Lannister was in love.

As Catelyn discussed the latest exam results, and their place in the university league tables, Jaime slid his phone off the table and sent Brienne a quick text.

_Now who's not paying attention? _

_ You keep staring at me, too, by the way. Am I too good looking?_

Across the table, Brienne stifled a laugh behind her hand. They'd argued and bantered and flirted and teased until they were at the place they were now. Jaime was clearly in love with her; _certainly _attracted to her. He was certain Brienne was attracted to him, too, and she wouldn't nearly spend as much time with him if she didn't deem his company worthy. But for _some _reason, they couldn't make the jump. Every time he skirted the subject, Brienne would pass it off as a joke. Every time he flirted shamelessly, Brienne changed topic.

Like now.

_You missed a spot shaving. Your whole face. You missed the whole face. _

Jaime leaned back in his chair and responded. He was looking forward to the pink flush he knew would stain Brienne's cheeks.

_It's called designer stubble. Designed to feel rather good against a woman's thighs. _

He got his reward. Wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and Brienne pushing her phone away as far as it would go; rapidly turning her attention back to the meeting. Sadly, it was nearly over.

"Well, that concludes our meeting for today." _Thank the Gods. _"Just one more thing. Doctor Lannister, Doctor Tarth: a moment in my office?"

If the look Brienne had thrown him earlier was fond, the glare she threw him now was positively _indignant. _Whilst the rest of their department left for classes, office hours, or research time, Jaime and Brienne followed Catelyn through the labyrinth of corridors towards her office. As they walked, Jaime struggled to think why they were being summoned like two naughty schoolchildren caught fighting in the playground. Brienne _certainly _thought they were in trouble. She elbowed him as they travelled up the staircase to their department.

"_What did you do_?" she hissed, pressing into his side as two members of their Ancient Weaponry class walked by.

"What makes you think _I _did something?"

She rolled her eyes. "_Experience._" 

Jaime scoffed, but didn't counter Brienne's argument as they had reached Catelyn's office. She let them inside; both taking a seat in the uncomfortable chairs in front of her desk. There was a fresh bouquet of flowers on top: red gerbera daisies and blue hydrangeas in a grey vase. There were photographs of Catelyn's children everywhere. Jaime still had a scar on his elbow from when Arya had hit him with a tourney sword during the department Family Fun Day. The rest of her desk was covered in textbooks, marking, and forms that Jaime dreaded every year: student evaluations.

Catelyn took her place in front of them. "I'm sure you're both wondering why I've asked you here."

Brienne immediately leant forward. "If this is about the end of term tourney recrea—"

Catelyn waved her hand. "It's not about that, Brienne. Your tourney demonstration is a welcome part of the curriculum; in fact, it's received rave reviews in all of our student evaluations. Which is the reason why I've brought you both in. As I'm sure you're aware, there's a section at the end for _comments._"

Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose. "Catelyn, _please. _You're not telling me you've brought us in here because some idiots have been writing explicit things in the comment box, have you? I know we're supposed to treat them like adults but, honestly, my niece and nephew behave better."

"Normally, Doctor Lannister, I would agree with you. I see no reason to address the mindless comments of a few bad apples. However, of the _two hundred _evaluations I read through, I received fifty-three with comments of a similar nature regarding the pair of you."

Beside him, Brienne stiffened. Jaime mentally recalled the handful of classes they taught together; wondering if they'd missed some glaring error in their teaching practices. Unfortunately for both of them, the comments were not of an educational nature.

"_Doctor Lannister and Doctor Tarth need to bang already_," Catelyn read from one of the forms. She picked up another. "_Please, please, please can someone lock Lannister and Tarth in a room; their sexual tension is distracting af. _My eldest daughter has thankfully explained what 'af' means; we might need to discuss the basic principles of academic practice with some of our students. But the intent is clear."

Brienne was paler than he'd ever seen her. Her hands clasped the arms of the chair; body rigid. "Are they all like that?"

Catelyn nodded. "_I went for a dissertation meeting with Doctor Lannister, only to hear what sounded like sex sounds coming from his office. I opened the door, only to find him doing push ups and Doctor Tarth looking like she wanted to ride him like a horse." _Sighing, Catelyn ran her finger along the page. This particular student had written _paragraphs _about them. "_Doctor Lannister is no better. He stares at Doctor Tarth's legs all the time, to the point that I've actively seen him lick his lips." _

_"Gods_." 

Brienne took in a deep breath before rising to her feet. She stood by the open window; arms wrapped around her torso. She looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment. Jaime, on the other hand, was trying his best not to laugh. He resisted – to Brienne, this was clearly not a laughing matter – but…seriously? _Everyone in the entire department can see how much we want each other, Brienne. Why can't you? _Leaning forward, he reached for a stack of evaluations, flipping through them. Most were along the lines of 'Doctor Lannister and Doctor Tarth need to have sex'. But there were a few with more _personal _anecdotes.

"_When Doctor Lannister is teaching with Doctor Tarth, he basically ignores the class in favour of looking at her_. Rude. I'm known for my _excellent _Q&A sessions. _When Doctor Lannister spilled coffee on himself last autumn and had to strip off, Doctor Tarth looked like she wanted to touch— _Fuck, Catelyn, these are wholly inappropriate. _And_ inaccurate. It wasn't coffee: it was soup from a vending machine."

Catelyn narrowed her gaze. "Why were you buying soup from a vending machine?"

He shrugged. "I just wanted to see what it tasted like. It was dreadful, hence why it ended up on my shirt."

"Can we _stop _talking about the _bloody _soup?" Brienne spat, turning from the window and storming back over to the desk. She ripped the student evaluations from his hand. "This-this-_these _are nothing more than _childish _innuendos by students who _clearly _have nothing better to do. There is _nothing _going on between myself and Doctor Lannister."

"That's rather the point of the comments, Brienne," Jaime said, enjoying the flush rising on her cheeks _far _too much. "We're not doing anything, and the students are getting frustrated."

"I will _not _be mocked!"

The line of her shoulders was taut; her hands clenched into fists. Jaime suddenly realised why Brienne was having such a visceral reaction to the comments from a few bored students. It was her first year at Winterfell; Jaime had recently finished his PhD, was receiving treatment for the nerve damage in his right hand, and was spiting his father by lecturing in the North. He had Brienne for one class; the boys who placed the bet in another. The head of department at the time, Randyll Tarly, had done _nothing. _He'd let Brienne be mocked; allowed the nickname _Brienne the Beauty _to fester. It was only after Hyle Hunt had left Winterfell with a failing grade (thanks to Jaime), and three missing teeth (thanks to Brienne) that the bullying returned to general disinterest and the occasional barbed comment. But the damage had been done.

"Hey, _hey,_" Jaime said, holding Brienne's wrist and pulling her back into the room. He hadn't meant to help her, then: it was more to spite Tarly than assisting the self-righteous wench who tormented him first thing on a Monday morning. But he was glad he had. "They're not mocking you, Brienne. This is about us."

_Us. Us. Everyone can see there's an 'us' but you. _

Brienne slowly lifted her arm from Jaime's embrace. She turned to Catelyn. "So, what happens now?"

"I'll send out a department-wide email asking for professionalism from each and every student, and a _reminder _that faculty should be treated with respect. I can't guarantee that this isn't being discussed on social media, but there's not much we can do regarding…_this. _I just wanted you both to be aware."

"And we are: thank you," Jaime said, cursing Catelyn for throwing _this _at their feet with no tools to assist bar a paltry _email _that most wouldn't read anyway.

Catelyn didn't officially dismiss them, but she reached for her glasses and a stack of paperwork. Brienne, used to Catelyn's ways through being her dissertation supervisor and then her mentor, left with a quick turn of her heel. Jaime took more time getting out of his seat and trundling towards the door. He hoped to give Brienne enough time to compose herself so, when he emerged, they could either head to _The Wildling and the Wolf _for drinks, or to the gym and beat each other with sticks.

But, when Jaime left Catelyn's office, she was nowhere to be found.

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Brienne was often in their office first; a takeaway cup of coffee and a pastry waiting on his desk for when he arrived. They would discuss their morning classes, and Brienne would chastise him for getting pastry crumbs on his paperwork. Once, when he'd accidentally smeared chocolate over an essay, Brienne had given him such a fond look it had taken everything in Jaime not to reach across and taste the cinnamon on her tongue. But there was no coffee now. No pastries. He had even tried getting to work earlier in the hope of beating her into the office, but to no avail.

_Lack of early morning caffeine is having a detrimental effect on my students learning. _

All Jaime received back was directions to the coffee shop in the basement of the student union.

Things continued to deteriorate. No coffees were exchanged; no lunches eaten whilst they discussed documentaries or movies or the latest adventure his brother Tyrion was enjoying. All the comfort and comradery of their little office was gone. Brienne had come in, briefly, one afternoon whilst he was there. She'd left the door wide open, had given him an even wider berth, and had not said a single word. They'd once been late for their afternoon classes because they'd got into an alternate history debate about what would have happened if the old king Aerys Targaryen had faced off against the White Walkers. Now, _nothing. _

The staff meeting – and Catelyn's bombshell that so many of their department thought they should fuck that the students had _complained _– had been on Monday. It was now Friday, and Jaime had gone from amused, to bereft, to just plain _annoyed. _Whatever romantic notions he had for Brienne, they were best friends too. If she was upset over these assumptions, she should just tell him. She certainly had never been afraid to tell him the truth before. _Pretty boy who'd bought his degree with Daddy's money _had been the name plate on his door until Brienne had graduated with her Bachelors in History.

_If she can't talk to me about it, I'll just annoy her until she does. Worked before. _

So, in his free period, Jaime headed up to the third floor with his 'reasonable excuse' tucked underneath his arm. Brienne was preparing her students for their final exams; today was a mock paper followed by questions. Jaime saw no issue in sliding into the lecture hall, keeping his footsteps light as he headed towards the table and lectern in front. She was wearing a white shirt today; the muscles in her upper arms biting against the fabric. _Gods. _

"_Brienne_," he greeted softly, pressing his left hand to her hip as he leant in close. _Feminism and Medieval Practice on Bear Island _was slid onto the table in front of her. "I need—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Brienne had flinched and stumbled two feet away. She clattered into the lectern, knocking it to the floor. Most of the class lifted their head from their exam papers. Brienne glanced at them, at him, before settling her eye line on the floor. "Sorry, everyone, get back to your tests."

"Yeah, sorry everyone," Jaime said offhandedly; his concern elsewhere. Brienne, who had once fallen asleep in his bed _with _him after staying up all night to watch all seven movies in the Ser Duncan series, now couldn't bear to be touched by him. He darted over to Brienne picking up her notes; bending down until their foreheads were almost touching. "Well, that was quite the show. Why don't you punch me in the face next time; let everyone know how you _really _feel."

"I'm not–that wasn't–_ugh._" Brienne straightened; Jaime following. The corner of her mouth quirked, as if glad of the extra height she had on him. "I am keeping things professional, Doctor Lannister. If you want to discuss this, I have office hours after this class."

Jaime couldn't believe what he was hearing. "_Office hours_? That's what I am now, is it? I mean, ignore the fact that it's _my office too_—"

"_Doctor Lannister, _my students are trying to complete a mock exam."

Maybe one or two of the class were trying to power through the discussion happening right in front of them. Most had given up on the paper and were watching the show. Several were nudging elbows and giggling. A couple were taking pictures; no doubt to put on whatever social media board was discussing when_ exactly _Doctor Lannister and Doctor Tarth were going to fuck. Jaime wanted to know that too. He'd been flirting and teasing for over two years now, ever since she had moved into his office. How many weekends did they have to share, evenings spent together on his sofa, before she would finally say _Jaime, I want you_?

Well if she wasn’t, he would. "Ever since Catelyn told us about those evaluations, you've been ignoring me. How am I supposed to think you won't do the same in our office?"

"_Jaime_–Doctor Lannister, _please._" She gripped him by the elbow and pulled him behind the desk. It was no good. Everyone was watching them now. "You're embarrassing me. Embarrassing _us. _More than we both are already."

Jaime frowned. "You think I'm embarrassed?"

Brienne shrugged off his comment, as if the thought of him being amused by their predicament had never occurred to her. "Of course. Over a quarter of the students who filled in those applications think you're attracted to me. Why wouldn't you be embarrassed?"

"BECAUSE I _AM_ ATTRACTED TO YOU!"

Brienne didn't say anything. Her bottom lip quivered, as if struggling to find the words. So Jaime found them for her. "Everyone in this room can see how much I'm attracted to you. Half the faculty has a betting pool about when we'll finally get together. The trainer at the gym had _words _with me because I'm half-hard every time we spar!"

"_Jaime!" _She'd finally found her voice. "This is not an appropriate place to have this conversation!"

"You're right." If he was to have an honest conversation with Brienne about their feelings, it couldn't be like this. Not with her angry, and humiliated. So he bowed his head, and tried to repair some of the damage he'd caused. "I apologise, Doctor Tarth. And to all of you: I'll have extended office hours tomorrow for anyone who wants guidance on next week's exam. And I'll have extended hours today, for anyone who wants to discuss how they feel about me."

With that, Jaime left lecture room 3B and headed back towards their office.

He spent the next ninety minutes going over the last ten years of their acquaintance. It was clear Brienne was attracted to him. Those small smiles she wore whenever he said something cute; the way her eyes would roam over his body whenever he wore a three-piece suit or they sparred in the gym. He was an attractive man: he'd had undergraduates throw themselves at him when he first started; colleagues flirt with him at every single university function. Even Catelyn's drunken sister had made a pass. But Brienne was different. He'd thought her history had made her skittish; darting around every opportunity for them to admit how they felt. But maybe, _maybe, _she just didn't feel the same.

The door to his office opened. Brienne stood in the frame, arms crossed, and Jaime wondered if the best thing in his life would walk back out again. "Jaime—"

"_I'm sorry. _I'm so sorry._"_

"Funny. That's what I was going to say." Brienne closed the door behind her, and took a series of tentative steps towards his side of the office. She sat on the corner of his desk, hands resting in her lap. She looked at her shoes, rather than him. "When Catelyn told us about the evaluations, I thought I was being mocked. Ugly Doctor Tarth thinking that _gorgeous _Doctor Lannister wants to sleep with her." Brienne raised a single finger in his direction. "_Yes, _I called you gorgeous. Interrupt me to tease me, and I'll walk out and take that offer from Storm's End University."

"Yes, Doctor Tarth. Please continue."

Brienne shook her head. She wore that smile she always did when he was infuriating; when she wasn't sure whether to kiss him or kill him. _Kiss me, please, Brienne. _"I needed to protect myself. My best strategy was ignoring you; putting some distance between us. But that just hurt us both: I missed you, and you _clearly_ missed me. So I'm sorry for not talking to you about this."

"I understand. I'm sorry for talking about my erection in front of forty of your third-year students."

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. "Thank you. There were several questions about your penis when we should have been discussing the status of Valyrian steel in noble houses, so thank you for that, too." 

"You're not the first woman to thank me for my cock." Brienne hid her face in her hands, but he could tell she was laughing. He rolled his chair over to her, and placed both his hands atop her thighs. She reached down, linking their fingers together. "Is there anything else?" _Please let there be something else. _

"I think _one _of the reasons why I was so reluctant to talk to you was because I wanted to avoid the conversation of _us._ Sometimes I think you want me as much as I want you. But it's easier to pretend that I'm imagining things; that I really _am _ugly Doctor Tarth. And sometimes it's just easier _not _to ask, because I don't want to know for _sure _that I've got this wrong. Like I did with Renly."

_Renly. _Her best friend at Stormlands Academy. Beautiful, charming, _gay. _Brienne had thought herself in love with him, and had – by her own omission – built up his admiration of her. When she'd finally told him how she felt, he'd let her down gently – but the damage had been done to their friendship. "I'm not Renly."

"I know you're not."

"No, _no, _Brienne…I'm _really _not." He stood up and reached across for her, cradling her face in his hands. "I love you. So, _so _much. I think I probably have since the day you spent an entire thirty minutes lecturing me in front of my own class." His thumb brushed across her top lip, and the little scar from childhood excursions with a sword. "I'm not saying this to be nice. I'm not saying this to win a bet. I'm saying this because if I don’t kiss you _soon, _I'm going to take the fucking Black."

"Well, we can't have that." Brienne's thumb stroked the back of his hand. "I've wanted you since I was in your classroom. Loved you for the last…_three _years. Since you stayed up all night with me searching for that _tiny _citation to prove one of our smug undergraduates wrong about Oathkeeper." 

Jaime grinned. _Finally. _"So let's be good teachers and give the students what they want, yes?"

Brienne went to say something, but Jaime pushed forward to take Brienne's mouth for his own. His lips were firm; his tongue pressing into the crease of her mouth. She opened for him, fingers scrabbling at his to gain purchase as they kissed as passionately as they fought. Brienne tasted of coffee and mint, and Jaime groaned at the thought of Brienne freshening her breath before their first kiss. She'd known. Walked in here with her apology and confession, a breath mint or a stick of gum lighter, and was now wrapping her legs around his hips whilst her teeth tugged at his bottom lip. Jaime pulled away for a moment to stare at her. Blue eyes now black; full lips pink and swollen. She was gorgeous, and glorious, and Jaime was going to pay the drinks tab for every single one of those idiots who wrote that they should fuck on their student evaluation.

But later. Much, much, _much _later. 


End file.
